


A Noble Cause

by Sarah_JAG (msdonnatemplenoble)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brothers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Secrets, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Twins, loosely follows canon events
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 06:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6144414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msdonnatemplenoble/pseuds/Sarah_JAG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor, John Noble, has seen a lot during his lifetime. Growing up on a council estate, he raised his younger twin siblings, James and Donna. Their mother, Sylvia, was a toxic presence coming in and out of their lives; not interested in raising kids. Despite the odds, and John & James kidnapping, the brilliant Noble siblings thrive and John becomes the head of The Torchwood Institute, like Grandad, Wilf, with his girl Rose Tyler. One day, much too soon,  James' takes over the immense job. Thankfully, he won't have to do it alone. John's long time best friend, Captain Jack Harkness, is there. Along with Rose, who is an entirely different adventure in and of herself. Eventually Donna joins the team too. However, Torchwood is an institute with incredible reach and power. An institute so secretive in nature and so large in scope that it does not fall under any one nation's jurisdiction. Many people would do anything for such power. Even men who held considerable power already, like Martin Davros, founder of Skaro Enterprises. Davros, along with his son Rassilon and his grandson (Rassilon's son) Harold Saxon. They will do whatever it takes to destroy Torchwood, the Nobles and everyone they love. But why?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Honeymoon For Donna

**Author's Note:**

> Doctor Who/Torchwood AU fic in which the Ninth Doctor is John Noble and the Tenth Doctor is James Noble, twin brother to Donna Noble.
> 
> The story loosely follows the stories from the series with an AU twist.
> 
> *There was a glitch when uploading this originally from "Teaspoon" earlier today. The second chapter has been added. I apologize!*

Leaning against the doorframe leading into his sister's room, James Noble could not help but swallow the small lump that had formed in his throat. Glancing at the red, iridescent numbers on the alarm clock, he could see that it was still much too early for her to be awake. Yet, she was. Presently, she was sitting cross-legged on top of her still made-up bed, not much of a deviation from her position last night. He began to doubt she had made any attempt at sleep. Donna was just sitting there staring out her open window as the sun rose slowly over the river Thames, but James doubted she even noticed the first rate scene. Her suitcase sat untouched in the same spot next to the dresser where he had placed it yesterday after bringing her back to the flat they shared. Her belongings were hidden away in boxes in preparation for a move that would never happen and remained stacked up in small towers in the corners, like sentries keeping guard over his broken sister. The only thing that appeared to have changed since he last stood in this doorway caught his eye as the early morning sunbeams poured through the window, drenching his sister in its golden light. They fairly danced and shimmered as they lightly settled upon Donna's fiery, ginger hair. The sight would have made him smile if that same warm glow did not also highlight her tear stained cheeks and swollen, red eyes. James found himself needing to avert his gaze from her to keep his emotions in check. He could feel an alternating mix of fury and sadness simmering away in him just below the surface, at seeing her look so defeated. Instead, his eye was drawn to something on the nightstand; a sparkle he hadn't noticed before. Now that the sun was streaming into the room, it sat there, highlighted, demanding his attention. Donna's engagement ring. He was certain it wasn't there last night, but there it was, in front of the photo of him, Donna and their older brother John, taken just before they had lost him. Before he lost him. 

Running his hand over the back of his neck, James willed himself not to start thinking about that now and let out a quiet sigh of release. He forced himself to look away from the offending ring and the photograph, and back towards the still form of his sister. 

"Bloody Hell...," he whispered to himself, his expletive both a declaration of the pain he felt at seeing Donna hurting and his anger towards the man that had caused it. He crossed the threshold into Donna's room and smoothly slipped the ring off the table and into the pocket of his trench coat before perching himself on the corner of the bed facing her. Closing his eyes, he wished to whatever powers there were at play in the universe that he didn't cock this up and make her feel worse. Quickly he scrubbed his hands over his face as if trying to erase the painful memories and returned his attention to Donna. 

"Hey, Earthgirl," he said softly, reaching out to place one of his hands on top of hers. He did not want to push her to talk, but he was worried. This was not like her. Donna was a lot of things, but quietly contemplative was not one of them. He was anxious regarding what had been running through her head all night and where she was in her thoughts right now. 

Donna turned her head away from the window and acknowledged his presence for the first time since he had entered the room. 

"Oi, what you want, Spaceman?" she choked out, trying desperately to keep her voice even; determined not to start crying again. 

James felt the corners of his lips turn up slightly when she answered him with the nickname he had been christened with as a child. Spaceman and Earthgirl. John used to call them that when they were little; back when he used to make up fanciful stories to tell them at night. Those names had stuck and in a way had defined him and Donna ever since. He squeezed her hand reassuringly before reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, but not before using his thumb to wipe away the trail where the tears had marred her porcelain skin. Donna rewarded him by actually making eye contact with him for the first time since he brought her home after the wedding had fallen apart. Taking a deep breath, he said the words he figured any good brother would say to his sister after something like this happens. 

"Do you want me to go beat him up or something?" He asked with a shrug. "I'll do it. Jack and Mickey have been keeping him at Torchwood on a "paperwork" technicality, so he hasn't been extradited. You know I don't sleep much, so I was awake last night thinking about this and I could stop by his cell for a bit more _interrogation_ on my way up to my lab. It wouldn't be suspicious for me to go in and..."

It was here that Donna interrupted his prepared speech with a not very subtle snort! 

James jumped up off the bed, releasing his sister and looking quite wounded! His left eyebrow shot up into the wild, chestnut hair that crowned his head. "Did you just "snort" at my offer to go beat up the bloke who broke your heart?!" he exclaimed indignantly. 

Donna rolled her eyes and moved for the first time in hours. The muscles in her back and legs screamed in protest after sitting in one position for so long, but she wanted to turn and face her brother when she said her piece. "SPANNER! Are you out of your bloody head?!" she yelled at him, "My stupid broken heart isn't worth getting Torchwood in trouble or having YOU go to jail over! You and the boys are lucky you didn't end up at her Majesty's Pleasure after the way you lot went after him yesterday!" Her arms flailed about animatedly as she tried to emphasize her point. "Bloody Hell, Jamie, you not just some chav kid from the estate any more!" she said in exasperated tones filled with frustration and urgency. "You are THE DOCTOR and you and your mates matter. You barmy fools are only part of some elite, organization responsible for the safety of the entire bloody **planet** or whatever the Hell it is you do!" she tried to explain, frustrated that her words seemed inadequate. Words always seemed to fail her when she was trying to describe either one of her brothers or what they did (not that she was supposed to explain what they did to anyone). John had worked for Torchwood too, and like James, he was absolutely fantastic. Brilliant. Special. Smashing. All words she would _not_ use to describe herself. Donna knew that people expected her to be more like her brothers, especially being the twin of someone as extraordinary as James. That alone had a way of making her feel completely laughable. The fact that their mother held a similar opinion of her only daughter (and reminded her of it at every opportunity) made the idea canon. Her failed wedding seemed only to drive the point home. Their mother, who had invited herself to the event, was all too pleased to point that fact out to her (and her guests) even as Lance tried to saunter out of the church yesterday. 

Still internally seething about the entire situation, Donna could not help but feel the humiliation start to burn within her once more, she thought how it took a real "winner" to agree to marry a man after only knowing him six months. How could she ever have thought that Lance had loved her? The only thing he felt for her was disdain. He had used her to get close to her brother James. The Doctor. Donna felt her insides knot up once more as she could hear his scathing voice mock her in her head, laughing at her as she proclaimed her love for him and begging him not to leave her. How could she be so **daft**?! And what the Hell was so damn important about her brother that someone would intentionally hurt her that much to get to him?!

James grasped his sister's hands in his and pulled her up to her feet so she was standing in front of him. He could see the conflicting emotions darkening her eyes and he wanted to do something to make her feel better. She grunted a bit in mock disapproval, but did not put up a real fight. Surrendering to the moment, she allowed her head to fall forward onto his chest. James brought a hand up to her head and stroked her hair gently. (He was always secretly, okay, NOT so secretly jealous of that red hair.) Donna allowed him to comfort her for a few moments while she collected herself and that wasn't lost on him. She was always putting up a good front, being all loud, shouting at the world. Moments like this were rare. She had called him "Jamie" and "Spaceman", nicknames that no one else on the planet could get away with calling him. Not any more. So, he recognized that she must be in a particularly vulnerable place and he wanted to be supportive. 

Donna turned her head to see her brother's warm, brown eyes and his face a so full of concern looking down at her. She calmly tucked her fingers of her right hand into a fist, and quickly, before he had the opportunity to register what she was about to do, she pulled back her arm and connected her fist, HARD against his arm! 

Releasing her with a little shove and jumping back, James clutched at his arm where her fist connected with the upper part of his left arm, "OW!... Crickey Donna, what the HELL was that for?!" he shouted, faced screwed up in a cross between shock and annoyance. His eyes were left wide and snapping at her. 

Donna was not to be outdone. She narrowed her blue-green eyes at him in return, "You think I want to have to save your skinny, little, alien behind when your case goes all pear shaped because you or your mates attacked Lance when you were supposed to turn him over to whomever or better yet, have to go beat up Lance, myself because your stringy Martian body wasn't strong enough to finish him off yerself?!" she fumed. The colour had returned to her cheeks, as her eyes were now spitting fire, along with her words. "Maybe you wanted me to have to bail you out of lock-up, because you decide to go play the dutiful brother, Spaceman?! Is that it? I don't think so. Now don't you have to get to work, Doctor?!" She challenged him, hands on her hips. 

Slowly, the magnitude of what had actually happened registered upon the Doctor's face, Donna was BACK! "Oi! Who are you calling "skinny"?!" He challenged her right back, staring her down, pretending to be perturbed before cocking his head and smirking, "I'll have you know, ladies simply swoon over me all the time." He informed her while running a hand through his artfully, unruly hair before adjusting his tie and raising a single eyebrow at her before leaning against the wall, and kicking one trim, leg out in front of him and crossing it in front of the other. The pose caused the leg of his tight, pin striped suit to ride up slightly, exposing his cream coloured Converse trainers and the shimmer of blue satin from the lining of his soft brown trench coat. 

If it were anyone else on the planet, she may have admitted he was rather "pretty". He certainly did have a way about him besides being a smart dresser. However, this was her brother and Donna couldn't help herself; she laughed. Hearing her laugh made James break out into a huge grin, complete with that adorably goofy thing he'd do with his tongue when he was REALLY pleased with something that made Donna laugh even more. Giving him a shove towards the door, she reminded him that he was going to be late for work if he didn't get a move on. The Doctor planted his Converse-clad feet in front of the door and in spite of Donna's shoving, didn't budge an inch. If he didn't say this now, he knew he never would. Besides, he was the boss, he couldn't be "late". In all his life, he was never late for anything. As for Lance, he hoped she knew him better than to think he'd rough the ignorant prat up just because he could. Then again, it wasn't like Lance hadn't given him more than enough probable cause for a well-deserved smack down. However, he had his temper pretty much under control these days. (At least he hoped.) 

Even then, he had to admit to himself, _I always give someone a chance to do the right thing before there are irrevocable consequences. This time, when it comes to the man who put my sister through such torment, perhaps one chance is one too many?_

Turning quickly, he once again caught Donna's hands in his. His reasoning behind the move was multifaceted. One, to protect himself from her hitting him again and B, or three... Whatever, because he wanted her to know how serious he was with what he was about to propose. He shut his eyes for a brief moment, organizing his thoughts and shutting out the rest of the elements in the room. He reached inside himself and tried to find a balance between his "concerned brother" and "Director and CEO of Torchwood Enterprises International voice". 

"Donna," he began cautiously, "I was talking with Jack last night and he and I agree, we think you'd be fantastic on a project we are working on." He paused only for a brief moment to catch his breath so she couldn't interrupt him. He could feel her tense up underneath his fingers and tried not to let his exasperation show, instead he continued before she shut him down. "Look, I know you think you don't belong at Torchwood," he said quickly and with a noticeable edge of irritation at the idea. "...But dammit Donna, tell me what do I have to do? What do I have to say to convince you otherwise?!" He fumed, letting go of her hands so he could grab at the back of his neck. It was killing him that he needed to have this conversation with his sister, again. Wordlessly, he cursed the venomous tongue of their mother for instilling in his sister that she was nothing short of completely useless when she was bright as a button! So bright in fact, that sometimes he couldn't believe it. He only wished she could! 

A small sound from his sister made him look back at her. He noticed she was staring intently at the floor. He gathered she was forming her protest to his proposal (again)! Vexed at her impending refusal to listen to reason, he tossed his head back in frustration and bounced his it off the door a few times, soliciting a satisfying "thud" that brokered the silence between them and released some of his pent up anger at the situation. Satisfied for the moment, he stopped and brought one hand up to her shoulder and the other to her chin. Tenderly, he made her look up at him. What he saw in her eyes made him gasp. Instead of the angry, indignant glower he was expecting; no, was USED to receiving any time he brought up Torchwood, he saw something new. A very small, fledgling, but quite real, gleam of possibility was reflected back in her blue-green eyes. 

Stifling an all-encompassing desire to pull Donna into an embrace, he exhaled slowly, attempting to exert control over his emotions. He didn't want to push her too hard, too fast but did not want to let this opportunity pass either. James stared deeply into her eyes, trying to convey to her what he knew to be true, trying to bring her around to believe in herself as much as he believed in her. 

"PLEASE Donna. Please say yes." 

He begged her without a bouquet of words; his eyes filled with longing, his heart, daring to believe that maybe THIS time he could reach her and she would say yes. He knew John had wanted to bring Donna into work for Torchwood even before he brought it up to him. When he finally did ask John why he hadn't asked her to come to work with them, it was on one of the rare occasions when he would be back home in London for a long stretch of time without the threat of his impending departure to some unknown part of the world and some secret mission looming over their heads. 

Instead of launching into some long, convoluted explanation as to why he had yet to ask Donna to join them at Torchwood, his brother only said that she wasn't ready yet. At the time, James remembered feeling infuriated by John's lack of an explanation and accused him of not caring about what happened to their sister. John's response was to simply set the file he was looking at back down upon the desk in his room, and walk around to the front of it. Now there was nothing physically separating the two brothers from each other. Calmly, he leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms in front of him, the leather of his jacket, creaking a bit in the process. James remembered standing perfectly still, as if in a trance, mesmerized by his older brother's movements. He dared not say anything else. Hell, he wasn't sure if he was even breathing at that moment. The room was deathly calm. John was looking down at his arms, folded across his chest, while James stared straight ahead at him. Then, slowly, John lifted his head to meet his gaze. His steely blue eyes penetrated straight through to his very soul! John's ruggedly handsome face was impassive, but his EYES! They were filled with a dangerous mix of anger and despair. Part of him was terrified and wanted to run. The other part thought maybe he should reach out to him? John's gaze was so intense, it overpowered everything else. All he could do was shudder as he realized John was coming towards him. The last thing James saw before he snapped his eyes shut, was John, as he unfolded his arms and crossed the room to meet him in two long strides. 

Before he saw him again, James knew he was directly in front of him. He could smell the unique mix of leather and "John", but still hesitated to open his eyes. It wasn't until he heard his name called for a second time, that he found the courage to peek out from under his own lids, and train his sight up at his brother. 

"James," John said again calmly. His accent a reflection of the time he and Mum spent living in the north of England before he and Donna were born. 

James could see John looking down at him, see him stretch out his hand to rest it upon his shoulder, only to stop and hesitate a moment before drawing it back again. He could see the pain in his face. THAT was on him and it would haunt him until the day he died. He had seen that James was frightened of him and that revelation was devastating. James _knew_ John would never hurt him; his reaction had been just that, a reaction, but to John, it was so much more. To him, it was validation of the evil, damaged person he truly was, the man their mother often told him he would grow to become, just like his father. 

James found he had to fall back on some old Torchwood techniques to keep the tears clouding his eyes at bay. Knowing that he had hurt him, made him think that he was _afraid_ of him, would haunt him until his dying day. Worse still, was how John had tried to give him that damn daft smile, tried to make _him_ feel better, as he explained that he really did want Donna to be part of Torchwood and that someday she would be, but not before she was ready. Then he told him that would be his job; to prepare her. That she would need his help if she were to ever realize how important and fantastic she truly was. When James tried to correct him and say that they both needed to help Donna, John just smiled weakly and said, "No, Spaceman, I am afraid that will be an adventure for just the two of you. Another chapter for Spaceman and Earthgirl," as he walked back around to his desk and sat down. After that, he wouldn't look up at him. He buried his head in his file and simply dismissed him by saying he had some work to do. He still lingered by the door and watched him for a few minutes before he turned to leave. His brother, the Doctor, said he was going to be the one to help Donna and it would be their adventure. An adventure that didn't include him. Confused, he left to go start tea.

If he would have turned around, he might have caught the Doctor setting the file aside in favour of watching after him. His large hands fumbling with his mobile, as a single tear blurred his vision and threatened to spill from his eye.

Looking back now, John's words seemed so very prophetic and he took his responsibility to get Donna ready for Torchwood seriously. He even enlisted their friends to help entice her to come down to Torchwood Tower. John had always insisted that Donna had something special burning within her, that it just needed to be cultivated and cared for so the rest of the world could see it. James realized that until his sister believed in her strength and importance in the universe, she'd never find her potential. Together, with John's girlfriend and fellow Torchwood agent, Rose Tyler, they occasionally had been able to talk Donna into coming into the office, or out into the field with them. If they had Captain Jack Harkness do the asking, well then they were practically guaranteed a "Yes" from Donna, _every_ time. 

A soft smile touched James' lips. Captain Jack had a way with women. (Okay, not just the women, with just about anyone he wanted if he were being honest.) It was one of the things that made Jack such a phenomenal field agent and his charms were certainly not lost on his sister, he smirked. James allowed himself to indulge in the memory for a moment longer, as he remembered the casual way Jack would toss come-on lines in his John's direction, and the ease in which John would toss them right back! John was completely immune to Jack's charms, but Jack was never one to back down from a challenge, even if the challenge happened to be his best friend. James could still see the look on Donna's face the first time she heard one of Jack and John's now famous exchanges while they all worked on a damaged hard drive. Mickey Smith, another Torchwood Agent, and their friend, had just come in from the field after completing a mission with Rose. 

Mickey was relieved to see Rose had made it back to the tower safely. They had been separated and he had been worried; you could read it all over his stress worn face. James had been helping John and handing him various instruments, while Donna did the same for Jack. Mickey however, had been pacing nervously, when she finally entered the lab. As soon as Mickey realized Rose was safe, he rushed her, enveloping her in a crushing bear hug. Upon seeing the two of them, Jack would not let a perfectly good opportunity to chat up John, go to waste. 

Jack: "Awwwwww sweet! Look at these two! How come I never get any of that? Look at them!" He exclaimed, looking up in John's direction and motioning towards Rose and Mickey with the soldering iron still in his hand. 

John: (Glancing down from his perch upon the ladder, still wearing his ridiculous head torch) He turned and looked down at Jack, "Buy me a drink first," he said without missing a beat. 

Jack: (Scrunched up his face in mock disapproval) "You're such hard work," he lamented with a bit of a whine. 

John: (Flashing that goofy grin of his) "... but worth it!" He told him then turned back to complete rewiring his circuit. 

At the time, no one thought anything of the exchange, it was par for the course, except they forgot that Donna was there. The look on her face was incredulous! Her jaw dropped open, her eyes opened wide as she stared at first John, then Jack, then James. Then back at John before finally exclaiming, "WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE TELL ME WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON?!" Everyone laughed until their sides ached. It was a good day. _There can never be enough of those in our line of work._ James thought to himself. 

As thoughts of John forced their way to the forefront of his mind, he felt his heart constrict uncomfortably. The familiar heat returning to his blood as the anger he kept trying to suppress, struggled to surface. He quickly tried to quell his feelings so he could focus more completely on Donna. He had already failed John, he would **not** fail Donna too. He wanted, no, _needed_ , to save her from herself. If he was being honest, this was also a selfish plan on his part and he knew it. He didn't have many friends, but the ones he had meant everything to him. Even so, he was lonely. Having Donna at work would make his life so much, well, just so much more than it already was. And perhaps, she could help Rose deal with whatever feelings she was still grappling with? 

_Besides, everyone loves having Donna around and she truly is brilliant. It's not like I am just trying to flatter her. All she needs is some direction and a touch of confidence_ , he reasoned with himself. He knew he could make this work. He could make her say "Yes". After all, he was the Doctor. That's what he did. He fixed things, fixed people, situations, lives. It went with his name. The Doctor. And he wouldn't give up. He paused for a moment, recalling something John had told him when he was younger when he asked him why the name, "the Doctor"? 

It had been just the two of them alone upon the roof of the council estate flat they were sharing with their mum and Donna. Their grandfather had taken mercy upon John and took Donna to see some silly movie about talking ponies that she had been begging to see for weeks so that he didn't have to take her. Sylvia Noble had once again disappeared. Who knew, for how long this time? She'd show back up at the flat eventually. No explanation. No apology. In the meantime, John did what he had always done, took care of them. That night, it was terribly hot inside their tiny flat, so he had brought James up to the roof to do his homework under a large canopy he rigged out of old bed sheets. Later, they just rested underneath it in the shade and talked. That's when he had asked the question, "why the Doctor?" 

John just smiled and said, "The name you chose is a promise."

"What do you mean, a promise?" he had asked, "what promise?"

His brother had been laying on his back with his hands folded behind his head, staring up at the old sheet serving as a canopy when he had asked the question. Now, he rolled on his side and propped himself up by his elbow to face him. 

"Never cruel or cowardly. Never give up. Never give in," he said, his face impassive. It was almost as if he was looking right through him, as if he was not there. It only lasted a moment, as John quickly recovered and reached out to muss up his hair. Pulling a face at him he continued, "Think you can remember that?" 

James remembered being too impressed to say anything. He just smiled and nodded. 

"Good", he told him with a smile, "of course, if you can't even remember to drag a comb through your hair once in a while, I have serious doubts you'll remember any of this!" he accused him with a twinkle in his wry eyes that caused his little brother to launch himself at him. The state of his hair had always been a source of teasing between the two of them. 

James pulled himself back from reminiscing. It was still too painful and it wouldn’t change anything that happened. It was time to focus on the present and that meant Donna. 

Donna Noble saw the look on her brother's face. It wasn't like he hadn't asked her to come work for him at Torchwood before. It was just that she had no desire to make a fool out of herself in front of her brother, the Doctor (of just about every science you could name) genius, witty, amazing and fantastic friends, and colleagues! It was hard enough growing up the twin sister of a genius; then you toss in John, another one! She felt the familiar ache of nothingness eat away at her. The feeling was painful, but not completely unwelcome as it was one she had carried with her most of her life. She didn't blame her brothers for it, it was hers and hers alone. Compared to them, she really was NOTHING! People just assumed she was cut from the same amazing cloth as them and when it was made clear she wasn't - the disapproval and disappointment they felt was never hidden to spare her feelings. Teachers and other adults were particularly cruel. Some blamed her mother. Some blamed her upbringing. Others figured she was just a freak, which was ironic when you thought about it; given that her brothers' had IQ's that were off the charts. She just assumed that since she did not, that would indeed, make her the odd man out. The deficient one. The loser. That made her an easy target. She had learned early on to use her words to hide her pain from others, something that tore at her oldest brother's heart more than he ever let on. John had gotten into a lot of trouble back on The estate growing up. He might have been a bloody genius, but John was not to be messed with. He had demons to spare and he was fiercely protective of his younger sister and brother. He never hid his beautiful mind; he never saw the point. People learned early on to not tease John about his intelligence, or his ideas. One look from the imposing physical specimen that was her brother, cloaked in his black leather jacket and heavy boots, staring down the world with his steely blue eyes. Well, that was usually enough to shut even the biggest gob of them all! If not, well, John was not above administering a bit of justice! He had done so on Donna's behalf many, MANY times; James' too. Her twin, on the other hand, while he was not above defending his sister or even his brother, James was different. James was a live wire, he was electricity and passion, where John was smooth, dynamic, but explosive. Where John was ice, James was fire. John was the Oncoming Storm, where James was The Great Scourge. John came on with a quiet ferocity that was simply terrifying, while James seemed so innocent, but was calculating his moves all the while and although he loathed violence, if he needed to inflict pain, it would be a pain you wouldn't soon forget it. No, she had no doubt of her place in the world, family, even if her brothers were blind to it. The Noble Brothers, **the Doctors** , they were important. Donna? She was a nobody, an unemployed temp. from the council estate. That was it. That would be her epitaph. 

Donna wanted to push away from her brother and shut herself in her room, or run out into the early morning and shout at the wind at how unfair it was that they could never just be happy like everyone else. That happiness seemed like it was something meant for other people. Looking at James, she knew he felt responsible for the weight of the world and she wasn't eager to add to that. At least when John was here, he helped carry that burden, but she wasn't John. She couldn't be that strong. James still hadn't even dealt properly with what had happened at the Gamestation; yet, here he was, running Torchwood and taking care of everyone but himself. He was just too damn young to be responsible for so much! That's who he was and he had learned that from John. 

_He certainly didn't get that kind of attitude from Mum,_ Donna thought to herself with a derisive smirk, _Sylvia Noble was about as caring as a rock._ Unfortunately, she couldn't take credit for it. Whenever she and James were afraid at night back at the Estates, when her mother would be screaming incoherently at how unfair life was; that she was trapped with three of them and that no man would ever want her and it was all their fault. She would scream out that John and James were FREAKS and that she was useless. Never pretty enough, nor smart enough, not talented enough. Whenever those nights reared their ugly head and the walls came closing in, John would come into their room and take them up to the rooftop where he kept Grandad's telescope. He would spend hours telling them all about the stars and planets; dazzling them with the adventures of a certain Spaceman and Earthgirl until they'd be too tired to take in any more. Then he'd carry them back to their tiny flat and tuck them into bed before sleeping on the floor to keep their mother and the monsters at bay. He taught them to take care of each. John inspired James to learn about the universe, to care for it, to be important. How did she miss that lesson she often wondered? How did he even DO that? Whatever it was that aged him so far beyond his years, they never did find out. However, whatever it was haunting him, did so until his dying day. Donna swallowed hard and tried to focus on what James was asking of her. His gaze was unrelenting. It was burning into her. His eyes pleading with her. She could "hear" him. It was they used to think it was just a "twin" thing, a shared connection that only the two of them shared, and for the most part, it was. That is until it wasn't. It turned out, John could reach inside their thoughts too. Donna could never get more than just an impression from either of them, but she swore that her brothers were able to hold entire conversations without ever saying a single word! Just another example of how extraordinary they were compared to her! She often wondered if being James' twin ever held him back? If she could ever dream of being anywhere close to his equal? Consciously, she knew he would never think less of her; nor that he would never keep a mate or a colleague that would either. They were a package deal; the Spaceman and the Earthgirl, but she often wondered if that was fair to him? If perhaps James wasn't missing out on meeting some brilliant people, or woman because they might look down on her? Sometimes the guilt was enough to keep her away from him for days on end. However, be it the pull of the Earth, or just the way things were meant to be, they were always drawn back in each other's orbit. She had even left to go travel; intending to be gone for months, maybe even years only to return after two weeks. She found that to be more than enough time for guide books and "don't drink the water" tours for her. When she and her brothers had travelled, it was on the fly and it was a real adventure! They were both working a case for Torchwood and convinced her to come with them. It was routine they said. Easy. Liars. They spent a month running from men intent on stringing them up by their intestines over some sort of technology they had recovered, a technology that was stolen from some top secret facility, in some place Donna had never even heard of! Yet, that very same technology had been something the team at Torchwood had designed and apparently, it was pretty damn important too! It was enthralling! (Even if there was a lot of running.) It was also frightening. At the time, she wasn't sure if she ever wanted to see Torchwood again after seeing how cold and terrifying James could be when pressed. Apparently, this bit of tech had the ability to slaughter an entire country's worth of people with a single flip of a switch. That was all. ONE.FLIP.OF.THE.SWITCH. and the madman controlling it all, had just made good on an earlier threat to do just that. He sent an entire village of people, 3,000 men, women and children to their deaths, for no other reason than as a power play. 

She had never seen James so still. His eyes were trained on the motionless bodies of children at his feet. He knew that this man had no intention on stopping his reign of terror and that those poor souls were only the first ones to die. He _knew_ it! And that knowledge consumed him! In an instant, it was if he controlled the very air that surrounded him. It bent to his will and ceased to exist. No sound carried anywhere, no trees rustled. It was just him and the power that radiated off from him. When he did speak, his voice was like molten rock. So full of fire and fury. So angry. He had felt those 3,000 deaths, every single one of them. He felt them all and turned his despair into an all-consuming rage! His eyes were dead, devoid of their usual playful exuberance as he lashed out and fired upon their target. Then, he turned to his men and fired. Down they went. One by one, like dominoes. Only John was able to stop him. To soothe his fury. Donna had been too terrified at the time to move, let alone try to stop him. Without John there, who would stop James now? Donna knew James needed her. If not to help keep him balanced, then just because It had never been easy for him to make or keep friends. He and Jack had become best mates, but that was easy since he was John's friend first and had been tagging along with them since he was 12. 

Mickey Smith worked with Captain Jack at Torchwood, and the two of them had been getting on well enough. Plus, Rose was there. 

_Rose._ just her name made Donna shake her head softly. She wasn't sure what to make of Rose at the present time. Losing John left a huge hole in all of their lives. She seemed to be doing much better now, but there would be times Donna would catch her just staring at _her Jamie_ when she thought nobody was paying attention. Then, there'd be other moments when she'd come to visit at their flat and she'd find her just standing outside of John's room, unable to go inside, yet unable to walk past. 

Whatever was going on with her, Donna hoped she'd be alright, but more importantly, that she didn't end up hurting her twin. She cared for Rose, honestly, she did. But as far as she was concerned, she already gave up _one_ brother because of her, she wasn't ready to sacrifice another and that included his heart! She might not be a genius like the boys, but if she was an expert on _anything_ she figured it was her twin brother. That said, she knew he had feelings for her. Right, wrong or sideways, he did and she didn't want to see him get his heart broken. 

However, outside of Torchwood, James did not have any friends. Donna figured that having such an intense job helped bind them all together. Yet there was something else, that made making friends hard for him, money. Having money always complicated matters when it came to friendship or love. Both her brothers were handsome. James was a pretty boy; she could admit that even if he was her brother. Handsome, smart and rich was a dangerous combination. He also felt called to help people and he honestly didn't care whether he had great sums of money or not. Actually, none of the Noble siblings really did. If Donna was being honest with herself, it did matter somewhat to her, but to James? Not in the least. (Which was ironic, since he was the one making the most of it.) At the age of four, he sold his first patent for well over one million pounds. (And that was only his first.) 

Back then, their grandad Wilf, had managed his money and kept it safe. ( _Mostly from their mother,_ Donna thought to herself.) It was held in a trust that no one could access until he reached 16 years old. It was actually _on_ their sixteenth birthday that James moved them off the estate and into the very flat that they were living in presently. He insisted it was a home for all three of them, as John had a room here too, even if he would be rarely there to use it. His work for Torchwood would often mean he'd be whisked away in the dead of night on some highly classified mission. Often times, they were dangerous and terrible and wore on him greatly. It seemed he would be gone for ages at a time in one stretch. That meant she and James were often on their own. It was during one of John's absences, approximately 8 months after moving into their new flat, that Donna found one of James bank statements carelessly tossed open upon the kitchen table. She had originally picked it up to put it in a more secure place when something caught her eye; a significant portion of his money was missing. When she confronted James about it, he admitted that he had no idea where the funds could have gone. Shocked, Donna took the situation in hand and started managing his money. 

_Oi, too trusting, that’s my brother!_ she lamented to no one. She was being ridiculous. He _needed_ her and she was wasting time on self-doubt and reminiscing. He deserved an answer! 

Sighing, Donna couldn't hide from the truth. The idea of accepting a position at Torchwood and possibly disappointing her brothers, petrified her. James was the only person left in the world who still believed in her. If he lost faith in her, or she let him down, she wasn’t sure what she would do? 

Donna met her brother's gaze, suddenly taken aback by how intensely he was studying her. Something about it put her off slightly. She opened her mouth to tell him for the hundredth time "NO", when James sudden and rapid movement took her by surprise. In an instant, Donna was off her feet and being swung around by her euphoric brother. Shaking her head slightly to clear it, Donna realized that could only mean one thing. 

Somehow she agreed to go to work with her brother, the Doctor, at Torchwood! 

Quickly, before she could take it back, James set his sister back on the ground and smiled that captivating and contagious smile that honestly did make the ladies swoon. His eyes were the sizes of saucers as he prattled on about how pleased Jack would be to see her and not to worry about bringing anything, as he already had her file prepared. ( _He already, what?!_ ) Donna opened her mouth to protest, but was silence by James planting yet another kiss upon her forehead before spinning on his heels and racing out the front door. All she saw of him, was the swish of his beloved trench coat, before he disappeared behind the wheel of his most prized possession, the TARDIS2 (named after the Torchwood mobile command unit). It was a rather sexy, little blue sports car that he had designed himself and he simply loved her. He often called her his “first love”. James' head erupted from the open window as he announced that he'd come back in the early afternoon to fetch her for work. 

"Don't worry 'bout a thing, you'll be **brilliant**!" he exclaimed with a manic grin, "after all, you're _my_ twin sister," he said with a wink, "the Doctor and the lovely and BRILLIANT DONNA NOBLE! HAS A NICE RING TO IT, DOESN'T IT!?" His voice reaching a crescendo, as he pulled out of the driveway, tires squealing, in the direction of Torchwood Tower. 

Donna still wasn't 100% sure what had happened. She stepped out onto the front step and picked up the newspaper, still wondering how she managed to say yes when she knew she intended on refusing her brother's offer again. Donna briefly wondered if James had used some Jedi mind trick or some other nonsense on her before she stepped back inside and closed the door. Turning around, she clutched the newspaper to her chest and leaned her weight against the cold, comforting support of the solid front door. 

"Well, isn't this just _WIZARD!_ " Donna exclaimed, and tossed the newspaper down on the table where they kept the mail. However, a soft smile took up residence upon Donna’s face, something she didn't believe possible, hours ago. 


	2. Coming To Terms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this story, TARDIS stands for: Torchwood Ambulatory Research/Reconnaissance Defence Information System

He could feel it. The Doctor was no stranger to death’s cold grasp. This wasn’t his first confrontation with eternity. They were unfortunate familiars. He had stared into the unyielding infinity before and felt its deceptive embrace. Only, he was too clever to be caught and managed to slip from its frigid grasp.  
This time, there was no escape. The sensation of death’s long fingers closing around his heart, sinking in and taking hold, was a sensation he unfortunately recognized. As far as dying went, this wasn’t the worst way for it to happen. It was a good death. His only regret would be that Rose and Jamie would live with the memory of his final moments. He wished to spare them that pain, but truthfully, part of him was grateful he wasn’t alone.

Off to his left, he could hear Rose thinking out loud, trying to piece together the myriad of disjointed events. She’d be expecting him to fill in the holes that existed in her recent memory; a side effect from her unconscious state. She despised not having all the details or worse, not knowing the entire truth. It was that passion for full disclosure that made her such a phenomenal and thorough agent. Now, he was afraid it would be her undoing. The Doctor struggled to find a scenario where discovering all the details from today would benefit Rose in anyway other than in her own emotional destruction. It was for that reason his mouth had been drawn into a tight line as he fought to conceal his private hell from her for as long as possible. As time inched forward, the deception began to weigh more heavily upon him.

He began to recognize the advancing stages of the poisoning take hold of him, as his mouth suddenly felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. Reflexively, the tip of his tongue jetted out to attempt to moisten his parched lips. Still, even his own discomfort could not sway him from thinking about Rose. Under ordinary circumstances, he would never consider lying to her but these were not ordinary circumstances. He found the idea of causing her more pain was damn near unbearable. For the moment, he just settled on keeping quiet. As things were now, he didn't trust his own voice to speak. Every bit of strength he possessed was needed to maintain the illusion he was alright. He was terrified he might break in front of Rose, or (perhaps) even worse, Jamie. No, it was crucial to remain in control for a while longer.  
Panic was starting to creep into the Doctor’s thoughts. He concentrated on his breathing momentarily, as the air inside the TARDIS had begun to take on the qualities of pea soup, becoming too thick for him to breathe properly. His lungs burned as he attempted to inhale a generous amount of oxygen without drawing unwanted attention. The sensation was similar to the one he’d experience after running from danger with Rose.  
The Doctor’s head fell forward to his chest as the vice grip on his heart constricted even tighter as his thoughts narrowed in on running with Rose. It was better than the initial building symptoms of a panic attack, but it stirred up a fierceness in him that he normally tried to keep subdued. A small flame ignited within him, as he lifted his eyes skyward in silent contemplation.  
That’s what I want to do. Run.  
Even in his own head, his voice sounded defiant and angry. Similar to a frustrated six-year-old before a full fledge tantrum. Exhaling through clenched teeth, he figured if he was ever allowed one tiny moment of incidental, tantrum throwing, it should be now.  
… To just take her by the hand and run. Run just far enough, for long enough, to buy me enough time…

He attempted to unwrap the fingers of one hand from its death grip upon the TARDIS. It was not an easy task as the TARDIS’s movements were not aiding his already unsure feet. After several long moments, the Doctor felt stable enough to let go and pondered it. He stared at the hand like it was foreign to him. His empty hand. His fingers curled themselves into a tight ball as the temptation to smash something coursed through him. He forced himself to release his clenched fist and to fight against the torrent of emotions that threatened to pull him under and take him down. He couldn’t afford to give into those now. Still, something inside him found the hand fascinating, even after he needed to return it to the console to aide in holding him up. The Doctor finally acknowledge that perhaps he was being drawn not to the hand itself, but to the fact that for the first time in a long while, there was no one holding it.  
As the Doctor swayed along with the twist and turns the vehicle was taking, he blinked back against bitter tears building up behind his emotional dam. He clamped his jaw down, grinding his teeth, in an effort to hold himself in check. Rose was so near to him right now. Yet, she already felt like she was slipping away.  
When he was gone, who would hold her hand?

The question tormented him. He was haunted by images of grabbing her hand and sprinting off into the distance, her smile stretching across her face as they panted and gasped for breath. He had promised her mother to keep her safe and he didn’t “do” mothers. She had sworn to stay with him forever. They were going to save the world together. The Doctor and Rose Tyler in the TARDIS. That was the plan.  
Who would insure she stayed safe now? That was his job, dammit! He was the one who promised he’d protect her. Always.

Well, that was until today and didn’t I do a bang up job at that? The venom in his words were dripping from each syllable as he spoke them inside his head.  
He attempted to steal a glance at his girl like the ones he had so many times before. She looked so beautiful, bathed in the rich light of the TARDIS, slightly dishevelled and still gnawing on her thick lower lip in concentration. It never ceased to amaze him whenever Rose would reach her slender, capable hand out for his large, rough one. Rose Tyler could easily have her pick of any “pretty” boy she wanted, yet she chose to hold hands with a former council estate chav, several years her senior, with an accent from the north and two siblings under his care.  
Wistfully, the Doctor had to admit that Jack was probably correct in his assertion about him and Rose.  
The two friends were leaving the local after a few pints, discussing which of the three women or two men that gave their mobile numbers to Jack, he might consider giving a ring, when the Doctor’s phone started to chirp in his pocket.  
Quickly, he started tossing Jack the contents of his seemingly bottomless pockets, causing Jack’s laugh to ring out into the early evening hustle and bustle. He was forever teasing him about the crap he carried on him.  
The Doctor didn’t find the situation quite as amusing. He wasn’t certain who would be ringing him at this hour so his senses were on high alert. As he plunged deeper still, his fingers brushed against the smooth plastic shell of his mobile phone. He shot Jack an “I told you so” glance as he whipped it out from his pocket and flipped it open with a flick of his wrist.  
It was Rose.  
Over his shoulder, Jack’s right eyebrow shot up into his perfectly tousled bangs. His blue eyes sparkled mischievously as he nodded his head in approval at the name emblazoned across his friend’s LED display.  
Clapping him on the shoulder, he smiled as he noticed the tips of Doc’s ears turn scarlet.  
“Doc, I have seen you do some incredible, fantastic, brilliant, clever, even impossible things over the course of our lives, but getting that girl to fall in love with you…” He shook his head gently as his smile grew wider. “That, my friend, is the real proof of your genius right there!”  
The Doctor breathed a soft sigh of acceptance. Jack certainly wasn’t wrong; even if he had no idea how it happened.  
The Doctor concentrated on the vibrations running through the vehicle as he stood in silence supporting his weight against the TARDIS central console. Somewhere in the background, he became vaguely aware that Rose was speaking to him, but he could not focus on her words. Distracted, he stared at the dials and buttons, the blinking lights and glowing displays that surrounded him. In his peripheral vision, the back of his hands caught the corner of his eye. His knuckles were bloodless from his impossibly tight grip on the edge of the workstation, willing it to support him for a little while longer as his legs were weakening. Still, even in a diminished state, he took a moment to smile affectionately at the vehicle.  
The body of the TARDIS had seen better days. Its rich blue paint was chipped and scratched in places, her body dented where he could not bang it out; battle scars he called them. Some were the result of hard fought missions with high-stakes consequences; while others were from wonderfully, ordinary activities, like trying to teach Donna how to drive.  
He grinned softly to himself as he reconsidered classifying “trying to teach Donna how to drive” as “ordinary”. If his memory served him correctly (and it always did) that was one fairly dangerous mission! Nearly as terrifying as any he could recall.  
At least before today.

The frown lines returned as he let the memory slip away. He rested the palm of his right hand gently upon one of the TARDIS’s many consoles. The vehicle had once belonged to his Grandad and he always felt a special connection to her. When he received the keys, he took great care dissecting her insides to modernize the vehicle and make her his own. He updated everything, but the exterior remained the same. On a practical level, it was invaluable to his team on missions. She brought the best of Torchwood with them wherever they needed to go. Having the option to work wherever and whenever he wanted was also fantastic. There were times when everything around him felt like it was spinning out of his control, when he'd needed to work alone within the safe confines of his TARDIS. She had become an escape for him.

It's only too bad the ol' girl can't help me escape one last time.

The Doctor slid his hand along the smooth metal before returning to grasp the console’s edge. He hoped James remembered to check the oil before too long. She was due for a change. That was the thing about the older models; they always needed something…

His train of thought became derailed by a new sound filtering back for his slightly oversized ears to capture. It was coming from the front of the TARDIS. This time, it was James, shifting about in the driver's seat, as he raced the TARDIS through back alleys and side streets. He was calling for Jack over their communicators, his voice changing pitch as he received only silence in response.

A lump formed in the Doctor’s throat. Looking for a distraction, he noticed the ambient lighting in the work area had turned a pale golden colour. He marvelled at how it reflected richly against the technological marvels that covered every available surface of the TARDIS. He wondered why he never noticed the way the light created intricate shadows that played upon the stainless steel casings of the various monitors and devices or the way the circuitry lit up like faerie lights during the holidays.

It was all rather beautiful in a way.  
However, if a distraction was what he needed, then even the TARDIS could not compete with his Rose Tyler as she sat sprawled out safe and sound on the floor of the vehicle. Her long blond hair fell across her great, gentle eyes as she looked up at him with concern. He had shifted his head slightly so he could see her and when he did, he discovered her staring back at him. Cocking his head a bit in concentration, the realization struck that he no longer heard her voice in their shared space. Its absence seemed to make the command centre feel smaller, colder. It saddened him and made him wonder when it was she had stopped speaking?

As it was, she was resting almost within reach, scrutinizing him, worrying her lip as she seemed to be deep in thought. A new wave of pain racked his body, but unlike before, this wasn't from the damage inflicted upon him by Davros's re-devised war machines, the Daleks. No, this was because as he stood there staring at his beloved, a sense of longing temporarily took the place of the agony inflicted upon him by the Dalek. The Doctor exhaled sharply as Rose absently reached up to twist a strand of hair between her fingers.  
Oh, the longing was so much worse!

He desperately wanted to pull her to him and they would cling to each other like they did after making love. He wanted to feel her heartbeat alongside of his one last time; like after they were both sated and gasping for breath, weakened from their release, faces flush, in a tangle of sheets and deadened limbs, collapsed together. Reaching for Rose, he would gather her up in his arms as she pressed herself up against his side, resting her head upon his chest so she could fall asleep listening to his heart beat. The first time she did it, he marvelled at how something so simple, could feel so momentous! It was an entirely new experience for him. Normally after sex, he’d want to roll over and go to sleep, but that? That was something… Fantastic. He found himself stroking her hair as she slept, marvelling at her beauty, until he caught on how their hearts seemed to be beating in unison. He would of course, attempt to rationalize why that would happen. However, the warm glow enveloping him thanks to the remarkable blonde girl in his bed, would eventually win out and logic damned. She made him feel alive for the first time in ages. As far as he was concerned, their synchronized heartbeats were because they were meant to be together. He would drift off to sleep, content in his theory. It would also be the first night in a very, very long time, he would be free from the savage nightmares that plagued his sleep.  
Something in him stirred. If he had the time, he would stop being a coward and tell her everything; confess everything he kept locked up deep inside before his time ran out. Drawn to the sight of her plump, glossy lips and golden tresses; he’d claim his last opportunity to brush that errant strand of hair out of her eyes and kiss her. There wouldn’t be a force in the universe that could make him stop either. He’d only break from those lips to whisper how much he loved her and how proud he was to have been loved by someone as fantastic as her. One more chance...

It was without warning that the lifelong rage he had been suppressing over the (seemingly) never ending inequities that plagued his life, threatened to spill over. The rolling flames of anger, angst and overwhelming sadness were trying to consume him once more. The torrent of dark emotions surged inside him. They threatened to refuse him any peace in his final moments. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead as he clenched his fist, struggling against the urge to strike out. His need for release, growing within him as rode the waves of anger and despair that threatened to drown him. Panic started to consume him as he felt his control slipping away.  
The Doctor let his head fall forward, hanging limp from his shoulders as he squeezed his eyes shut. He needed to centre himself and gazing at Rose, was only fuelling his pain at the moment. He refused to come undone in front of her now! Pulling his shoulders back and lifting his head, he pushed back against the darkness one last time. Only once more , would he have to fight the demons that threatened to claim him and turn him into a monster. A twisted, evil, hate filled monster like the one his own mother thought him to be.  
“The Oncoming Storm.”


	3. The Oncoming Storm

_The Oncoming Storm..._

Originally, it was nothing more than a nickname he earned as a lad on the football field. His fierce competitive nature and lack of fear, would strike terror in the hearts of his opponents. No one wanted to challenge him, they knew their odds of escaping unscathed were slim to none. However, that combined with stories regarding his “conflict resolution” skills, began to spread beyond the confines of the schoolyard, neighbourhood, and then farther still. They spread like wildfire and as it spread, he initially wore the title with a sense of youthful, cheeky pride. But that was years ago. Now it was a name he’d rather forget. One he had worked tirelessly against in recent years. He was a fool if he thought he would ever be free of it. It was always there, lying in wait to claim him. It always would be.  


Suddenly starving for oxygen, the Doctor opened his eyes wide but found it impossible to focus his sight anywhere. His vision distorted by a combination of unshed, angry tears and the effects of the poison. He tried blinking again. This time, he exaggerated the motion, holding his eyes shut for a moment before letting them flutter back open. A smudge of red caught his eye before it disappeared, only to reappear again a second later. It took the Doctor a moment to realize he was staring at a singular red light shining out from the command console. He concentrated his attention on it, and was rewarded as it slowly came into focus. The voice of his grandad swirled through his chaotic mind like a whisper in a storm. The relaxation technique working to redirect the anger and force it’s remnants to recede back into the hidden recesses of his heart.  


_A person can’t change who they fundamentally are, no matter how badly they may want to, he acknowledged to himself sadly and not for the first time._  


Exhausted but once again, calm. He finally let his eyes return to Rose. His fury from earlier was replaced by new waves of emotions. They swept over him in rapid succession, threatening to sweep him under. The first one to swallow him up was devastation. It rolled over him as he struggled to fight it off. He had no choice but to break free from it, as the alternative was giving up and he had no intention of doing that. Just as he was pulling himself free from its suffocating grasp, he was overtaken by a rush of sad acceptance. It seeped into him, clinging to him like a second skin.  


_None of this will do!_ he chastised himself. He needed to rationalize the situation. To approach it _logically_. The Doctor attempted to observe the love of his life with a sense of clinical detachment. He needed to accept that he was never going to get that chance to run off and talk to Rose. He would never hold her again. The sooner he moved past it, the sooner he could get to saying “good-bye” because there was no way in hell he was dying without giving her at least that. 

Rose shifted under his scrutiny, her tongue poking thoughtfully out from her delicious mouth. 

_Fuck clinical detachment!_ his mind screamed. He didn’t **want** to say good-bye! 

Realizing he would never hold Rose Tyler in his arms again, made the angry poison burning through his body up the intensity of the agony it was inflicting. Not being with her would be enough to kill him; never mind the Dalek’s poison. She was his everything. The light to his darkness. His safe place to land. He had planned on marrying her someday, maybe even having children of their own. He secretly had thought maybe three, two boys and a girl. A girl with her mother’s spirit, who would look up at him with those same whiskey coloured eyes and reach out her tiny hand for his. That would never happen now and it was so bloody unfair. Yet, he knew he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. After all, he wasn't a "... and they lived, happily ever after" kinda guy. He was a fool to believe he deserved that kind of life.  


Truth be told, he was sorely tempted to laugh when he realized he had spent most of his life not feeling worthy of being loved, only to end up dying for it in the end. 

_Still,_ he admitted, _I would do it all over again for Rose._  


The Doctor’s face warmed towards her as he felt the large, converted RV come to a sudden, screeching halt. His knees buckled slightly, as his strength was rapidly draining. He was finding it harder and harder to keep up the pretence of being all right. For right now, he just took comfort in the fact that Rose did not seem to remember him taking the poison from her body. He couldn't be certain, but he didn't think she even remembered being attacked by the Dalek. 

_I’d die a thousand times over if it would keep her safe,_ he admitted to himself. Moreover, if she didn’t remember anything, that was simply a bonus. He honestly did not want her to recall the details of what went down at the Gamestation. He wanted to spare her the nightmares, and the emotional torment. Worse yet, he was afraid that her spirit would be destroyed if she had to fight a lifelong battle against guilt, fear and (gods forbid) self-loathing. Feeling responsible for the fate(s) of those you love, was something impossible to forget. He knew that horror all too well. He would not have that for his Rose! 

He _knew_ her, and if she knew the truth about how he died, she would end up feeling responsible. That could not happen. For one, she had nothing to feel guilty about. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do to keep her alive. In the same breath, there was no one on the planet, no force in the universe, that could have stopped him from doing it either. 

_He_ was still the Doctor dammit! And no one made decisions for him! 

It all happened so quickly, he didn't even have time to think on it! It was all instinct. One moment, the Daleks were frozen in place, the next, one of them wasn't.  


One stinking Dalek. 

One of Davros’s hellish weapons of war, something dreamt up from the darkest corners of a madman’s nightmare. They were almost invincible killing machines, capable of destruction and death in an unfathomable amount of horrific ways. Each one more sadistic than the last. They were to become the ultimate soldiers. Troops without the messiness of emotion or the unpredictability of free will, flaws that traditional soldiers still possessed. The Daleks existed to take their place and to become the harbingers of pain, destruction and death for whomever could afford to own them. They lived to serve and follow whatever core commandments they were given. They were Davros’s masterpiece and Torchwood needed to eradicate them and whatever technology was used to create those monsters, from existence. 

That’s all it took. ONE Dalek. One shot. 

He had been feverishly working on the sensitive equipment in the main control room, his sonic screwdriver whirring at an impressive rate, even for him, to get the shockwave online. Time was of the essence. They needed to be clear of the building and set off the shockwave before they were forced out by a team from Skaro, or worse, the Daleks. The blast from the wave of energy was their only hope at decimating the Daleks while simultaneously, levelling the Gamestation. Nothing could be left behind. However, time was slipping away from them. Sarah Jane’s latest reconnaissance report to Mickey had reinforcements from Skaro reaching them in a matter of minutes. 

It was Mickey Smith who delivered the news to the Doctor before retreating back to the rendezvous point on his orders. Upon relaying the news in the report, he made the mistake of glancing over at Jack. Apparently, Jack had a similar assessment of their current situation, and that seemingly insignificant look was all the confirmation the other man needed to put his own plan into action. Captain Jack Harkness, the man he had known since he was a child, said a quick good-bye and legged it out of the room before he could stop him. 

The Doctor gnashed his teeth together and choked back the same anguished sob that had been threatening to escape his lips from the moment Jack disappeared from his sight. 

  
_Damn he was clever. Too clever._   


Jack had figured out, that the only way they could stop the Dalek fleet in time, would be if one of them (him, in this case) stayed behind after the others left and manually detonated the shockwave. There would be nothing left. No Daleks. No factory. No technology to rebuild. Along with no way out. No survivors.  


The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut, willing this entire day to be nothing more than just another one of his night terrors, but knowing better. 

  


Jack had done the math.  


_I may not be quite the bloody genius he is, but never let it be said that Captain Jack Harkness was nothing more than just a pretty face (attached to an incredible body)._ He ran a hand along his fine, grey wool coat and smiled at his reflection in a darkened monitor. 

If the Doctor was to die; he was not going to die alone. He would stay and fight until the bitter end for him. At some point in time, the Nobles and the Torchwood Team became his family, and no one as much as the Doctor. He would gladly sacrifice his own life for a chance to eradicate Martin Davros from the face of the Earth. The idea of being the one to cause the life to drain from the old man secretly pleased him to no end. 

Jack kept his eyes expertly trained on his surroundings as he tore through the many twists and turns that comprised the corridors of the Gamestation. He kept one gun drawn; and another at the ready on his hip. Every sense he possessed was heightened. He flowed throughout the expansive building like a leaf in the wind. Never settling in one spot, always the picture of grace, even in perpetual motion. He had left his pistol behind in the control room. As armed as he was, he felt naked without the weight of it anchoring down his coat pocket.  


A bitter chuckle cut through him, _You could never have enough guns when dealing with Skaro Enterprises or the psycho’s behind it._  


However much he might wish to have it now, he knew leaving it was the right thing to do. Jack was all too aware of Doc’s distaste for firearms, despite his proficiency on the subject. He knew for a fact that Rose and James were not armed; he and Doc had argued about the subject at length before departing this morning. Jack tried to take comfort in the knowledge that Mickey and Rory Williams were working with Ace, their residential demolitions and munitions expert, a short jaunt away at the rendezvous point. If Hell reigned down upon them, it was up to the three of them to get them out. That particular team had pulled off some miraculous rescues before; he just hoped they wouldn’t need to today.  


A line of sweat trickled down his neck and pooled at the base of his throat, a combination of the exertion, adrenaline and nerves. He paused for a moment to wipe his sleeve across his brow. He couldn’t risk having his vision compromised by the oversized beads of perspiration that threaten to drop into his eyes. Panting softly, he pushed his hair off his forehead, picturing the small round table in the conference room where he left his favourite pistol. It was left out in plain sight, as was his intention. He understood Doc was likely to be pissed at him if James were to handle his gun, but the kid was a great shot and if, gods forbid, he _needed_ it and didn’t have one… Doc would never forgive himself and Jack knew it. He could understand why the idea of his baby brother shooting or killing a man would bother him, hell, he raised the kid. However, Jack wasn’t ready to see James laying in a pool of his own blood either; his warm, mischievous chocolate eyes, dull and lifeless.  


Well, that and he _really_ hoped James would give him his gun back. Doc might be so ticked off at him, the bugger might just keep it from him! 

Forcing himself to concentrate on his surroundings, Jack’s sapphire ice eyes zeroed in on any signs that Davros or maybe his bastard son, or grandson had arrived. Hell, maybe all three would show? The trifecta of evil. He had no reason to doubt Davros would make an appearance. He had a voyeuristic itch to scratch. A need to see the destruction and chaos his “pet projects" reigned down upon people. In this case, he most certainly was going to want to see the end result to his fleet and facility when they got done with it That is when he would have him and as far as he was concerned, Davros deserved whatever agony he could inflict upon him. 

He would consider it his farewell gift to John. 

Jack smirked as he considered asking for a kiss from Rose instead, but decided he rather liked his face the way it was now.  
_Besides, there are always other ways, other **options** for a proper goodbye kiss. _ His deep, raucous laughter at his own idea, replaced the air of dread inside the Gamestation. By the time it faded into a knowing smile, his delicious idea had taken root, freeing him from the seriousness of the situation momentarily.  


Jack took respite from his mission and leaned against a wall momentarily, catching his breath. He let his dark head fall back against it as he slid down its smooth surface to crouch down low. He pressed against the wall, inhaling a few gulps of stale air, needing a rest before he set back off. There weren’t any windows in this part of the building and the air conditioning hadn’t been switched on since Monday. He wrinkled his nose at the slight sour smell in the air. The entire Gamestation complex gave him a bad case of déjà vu. It just conjured up old, painful memories from years back, when he was a seventeen. That sour, slightly acidic smell… Davros. Sylvia. If Jack wasn’t in the middle of a treacherous mission, he would seriously consider walking out the door and losing himself (and these memories) at the nearest local.  



	4. A Terrible History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied child abuse and kidnapping.

_...Sylvia_

The old bitch would never make it onto his Christmas card list, that was for certain. While his parents would never make it into the Parental Hall of Fame, Sylvia Noble was a mother by virtue of genetics alone. It was only due to the grace of Doc’s grandad Wilf, that the two of them had ever met. It was he who witnessed the vast potential in his ingenious grandson and arranged for him to attend the same privileged public school. Sylvia was too busy spending her allowance from her father on alcohol and clothes. On meals at expensive restaurants and on whatever the hell it was she did when she would disappear for days, weeks, months at a time. Sylvia only worked when it suited her, or when ordered by a court, as the case may be. She felt employment was beneath her. She knew her father had a substantial amount of money squirrelled away as compensation for his years of service at the original Torchwood. Also, his stature as a former Torchwood agent had a tendency to impress people. She lived off of that, tried to suck whatever notoriety she could from it. Jack often wondered if her children were just a by-product of too much partying and too little responsibility because she certainly never cared much for them. Perhaps they were just mere accessories or bargaining chips to use against her father? Whatever the case may be, Wilfred did try to make his daughter take responsibility for her own life and for the lives of her children. However, there would always be crocodile tears shed and promises made, only to be forgotten and the tears dried the moment Wilfred Mott left her sight.  


Doc would end up being the only real parent James and Donna Noble would ever have. A mighty responsibility for a ten-year-old boy to shoulder on his own. Sylvia would flit in and out of their lives; usually causing destruction and pain in her wake, and usually to John. For whatever reason, he was her whipping boy. Their grandfather would leave London for Cardiff and his visits home would be few and far between.  


Jack could feel his body tense up as he recalled his best friend arriving to school during the mid-summer months in long sleeved shirts or jumpers to cover his arms. Other times, he’d be adorned with a black eye and scratch marks covering his neck and face. There was one memorable week where he didn’t come to school at all and Jack could not get him on the phone. Convinced that something truly awful must have happened to keep him from school, Jack charmed his way onto a city bus for the first time in his entire life and skipped school to find out. For a boy from Chelsea, it was both terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time! He had never been to the east end of London without Doc before. It was dark and gritty compared to the lush, green urban landscape of professionally manicured gardens and greenspaces where he lived. As he climbed the staircase leading up to John’s flat, he marvelled at how different their two worlds were and how it didn’t matter to him one bit.  


When he reached the door to his flat, he knocked and paused for an answer, but none came. However, he could hear the twins, barely toddlers at the time, causing mischief as the sounds of random items clattering to the floor could be heard all the way out into the hall followed by a few expletives from John. Jack tested the door to see if it were locked. It wasn’t. He didn’t know why the twins weren’t at the day care and John wasn’t in school, but he intended to find out. Cautiously, Jack twisted the door knob and slipped in through the opening.  


“What in the HELL happened here?” he exclaimed, no longer concerned with being subtle.  


Doc’s right arm was taped to (what looked like) a book, in a crude attempt at a splint. He bore bruises across his cheekbone, one eye was swollen almost shut, his lips were cracked and still slightly puffy from where they had been split open. One of the twins, Donna, crawled up to Jack and pulled on his pant leg and stretched her arms upwards to him. Instinctively, Jack swung her up on his hip. He was used to John’s brother and sister, he liked them, but the little girl’s hair was in need of a good brushing out. That wasn’t like him to let things like that slide. He would go without for months on end, but never the twins.  


Jack approached John (who was still, just “John” back then, but he already started calling him “Doc” or “Professor” from time to time) setting the wiggling girl down to go bother her other brother.  


Doc wouldn’t look up at him. Not even after Jack called to him several times. He’d seen him shut down before, but never quite like this. The only thing he could do was wait; so he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it across the back of a nearby chair. Immediately, he set about picking up toys, books and other assorted items from the floor and putting them in their proper place. That caught John’s attention. He used his good arm to help pull himself up from the floor where he had been sitting, trying to keep an eye on the twins. Alerted by the movement out of the corner of his eye, Jack placed the last book on the shelf and came back to give his friend a hand. John took it, clasping his hand in his like two arm wrestlers might and pulled himself up. John shuffled past Jack without saying a word and made his way into the cramped kitchen. It was obvious that each step pained him as he tried not to limp on his way back to the living room. He nodded at Jack, motioning for him to take one of the two bottles of soda he brought back with him before dropping down on to the threadbare couch.  


“John?”  


“Don’t. Okay. Just don’t.  


Jack looked away and took a long pull from the Coke bottle, unsure what to say or do. He could tell by the colour of John’s fingers that something was terribly wrong with his arm. Besides that, his face! The swelling had mostly gone down where someone had repeatedly struck him, but the bruising was still readily apparent and it told a pretty despicable tale.  


Still, Jack bit his lip, and shook his head, looking for another angle. “Why aren’t the twins at day care? Can you tell me that at least?”  


“Really, Jack? Really? What am I supposed to do, eh? One good arm, can’t really walk too well… How am I supposed to get myself ready to catch the bus let alone TWO toddlers and pack their bag and drag their stroller down to the street? How?! Can you tell me that!?” he was angry. His face had turned red as he choked out his response. Jack _knew_ his anger wasn’t with him, but part of him wasn’t too happy with John Noble right this minute either.  


“And just who am I, John? Just your best mate, eh? What you’re _supposed_ to do is RING ME UP and I come over and help you with whatever the hell **this** is! Instead, you don’t call, you don’t show up for school, you don’t do _anything_ to let anyone, let alone _me_ know you’re still alive!”  


John opened his mouth to rebuke him, only to snap it shut again. He was right. He knew he was right, but he was embarrassed. _He_ was the one that helped Jack out of tough situations, not the other way around.  


The sun filtering in through a crack in the curtains reflected off the top of a caramel coloured mess of hair as it was Jamie’s turn to come over and peer at Jack from behind the couch John had collapsed onto. Jamie’s behaviour confused him. At least watching the little boy gave him something else to focus on besides how mixed up he felt over what happened to John. He inhaled deeply through his nose before exhaling as he stared after him.  


“Since when has Jamie become so shy?” 

John cleared his throat, “Since his mother showed up about a week ago with her new boyfriend.”  


Realization struck Jack like a lightning bolt, “Sylvia. Of course your _mother_ is behind all of this,” he said in disgust, gesturing at his arm. “But what’s this about a boyfriend? Did he hit you? Did she let some strange bloke come into **your** flat and…?” Jack wasn’t able to finish his sentence. It was no secret he did not like John’s mother, but he could not imagine she’d let something like that happen.  


John didn’t say anything for a few minutes. “She didn’t call him her boyfriend per se, but the way she hung on him, it was pretty clear. He shifted about in his seat as he grew more animated. “You should have seen him Jack! He just waltzed in here like he owned the place… Started ordering _me_ about! In _my_ flat! The whole time, she just **stood** there, smiling and laughing like he was the greatest thing in the whole wide world!” Darkness had gathered upon his friend’s face as he became absorbed in the memory. Jamie finally emerged from behind the sofa and climbed up next to him, laying his head upon his brother’s lap, thumb placed in between his lips. John’s left hand moved as if on automatic, and stroked the small boy’s hair.  


“He comes into **my** home and starts making comments about me. What school I am going to, my grades, what I look like, examining my football trophies… Really putting me under a microscope. So, I asked, _Who the hell are you?_ and Sylvia… Well, you know Sylvia, she doesn’t like that none, but him? He did. I swear he did. He laughed. He laughed and then… “He squeezed his eyes shut tight, as if preparing for impact from the man’s fist.  


Jack waited on baited breath. He could feel his blood pulsing hot throughout his body. He was already wondering whom he could call, or better yet, who his father could call to stop this man from coming back when John started talking again.  


“But then, the twins. The twins started to cry, so I went to get them and _he_ tried to stop me…! 

( _Okay, right there. **Anybody** that knew John would know that is the **wrong** move, _ he thought to himself.)  


“I told him to get the hell outta me way, that I had to go get my brother and sister, when he just laughed _again_ and told me that no insolent thirteen-year-old boy was going to tell him what he could or could not do. He then looked at my mother, and this was the weird part, he looked at her and said, she did a poor job instructing me in proper etiquette and that he was going to have to start over from scratch if I was ever going to have a place at the table. What does that even mean?” he implored to Jack, his eyes begging for an answer that would make sense.  


Jack shook his head meekly, he honestly did not know, but he had a pretty good idea what came next. 

“Anyway, he knocks me to the floor and just lets himself into our bedroom. **And she lets him!** Doesn’t even try to stop him. Doesn’t say **nuthin’** to him! So, I went after him. Only… He was stronger than he looked,” he muttered quietly, not meeting him in the eye. 

That’s the way things went for John. Sylvia was like a hurricane, blowing into his life, and that of the twins, and causing devastation in her wake. Luckily for them, she was gone most of the time. She left the care of the twins and the flat to John as she drank herself into oblivion or disappeared. Their grandfather Wilf, had lived with them in a much nicer flat up until his wife had passed away when John was six. After she died, Wilf was broken. His daughter took full advantage of the situation and encouraged her father to leave her the flat and a small allowance to take care of her son, so he could finally take some time for himself and travel; to see all the sites he had dreamed about for so long. Grateful for the distraction, and pleased that his wayward daughter seemed to finally have some focus in her life, he agreed.  


Three months later, Sylvia would lose the flat and John would be taken into protective custody.  


Somehow, she would manage to get her son back a few days later and secure a new place to live. Only to repeat the scenario again.  


Eventually, they ended up on the council estate.  


Three years later, Sylvia would turn up pregnant, with twins. She never revealed who the father was. If he ever sent any support, they never saw a penny of it.  


As for Wilfred, he would check in occasionally when his schedule would permit it. After travelling, he moved to Cardiff to lay the foundation for the new Torchwood, leaving Sylvia very much to her own devices and leaving John, all of thirteen, very much in charge of the not quite 3-year-old, Donna and James. Wilf was impressed with John’s dedication to his siblings and established an account at the local bank so he could make sure they had money to cover their needs. He tried to make it to the flat at least once a month, to check in on them. Often times, he would find John bruised and battered, but he always claimed it happened out on the street or in the playground.  


Never once did he admit it was Sylvia. Not to his grandad. Not to the cops. Not to his teachers, the doctors. Not to anyone. Only he knew.  


Still, she’d occasionally attempt to turn over a new leaf (usually at the insistence of her barrister or the magistrate) and find a position. This however, was not the case with her job at Skaro. The Doctor had told him over a pint at the local, that his mother had arrived home out of the blue for tea (which was unusual itself) and announced she had a grand new job and that they were about to get everything owed to them. He had been sceptical of course, but did not want to damper the twin’s excitement; so he kept his doubts to himself. 

A few days later, Jack was sitting in his favourite, tired chair in the Nobles’ undersized living room watching the football match, while Donna quietly ambled about the room, clutching her favourite bear. She seemed to feel as if something was amiss. Truthfully, if she was nervous, she wasn’t the only one. It wasn’t like John to be late and this was getting excessive. Glancing at his watch, he noted that it was now half past ten. There was no way Donna should be awake at this hour, let alone Jamie being out and about. Jack watched the normally feisty little girl as she sullenly wandered around the flat, lost without her twin brother. 

_That does it._ Jack got up and smiled brightly at the little girl. “How’d you like a piggy back ride to bed?” 

Donna’s face was conflicted, obviously sorely tempted by the idea of a piggy-back ride, but sensing a need to stay awake and wait up for her brothers to return home. 

Jack’s face warmed significantly as he observed his favourite pint sized ginger struggle with the decision. “I’ll tell you what, you don’t have to go to sleep right away if you don’t want to,” he told her in whispered confidence. “The thing is, I need to call your Grandad Wilf and if finds out I let you stay up this late he’s going to come over here and I’m going to catch hell!”  


Donna eyed him suspiciously, not quite buying his story. (Clearly he underestimated how well she knew him.)  


Jack hunkered down lower so he was more on her level. “You don’t want that to happen, do you?”  


Donna smiled and gave him a quick shake of her head. Satisfied, Jack started to rise up from his squat, but not before he reached out and tweaked her on the nose. 

The sound of her giggle warmed Jack’s heart. However, her laughter soon morphed into an enormous yawn as she allowed Jack to lead her by the hand towards the bedroom. As they approached the door, she dug her heels in and made him promise to wake her the moment her brothers made it home. One look at the determined face of Donna Noble let Jack know she was serious. He assured her he would indeed wake her the moment they came through the door. Content with his response, she dragged herself into the room and curled up in her bed completely knackered. Jack took care to tuck her in properly and picked up the book that rested on the nightstand. He quickly leafed through it before deciding that a story might be just the thing to distract her from her worry.  


Donna managed to fight against her exhaustion for about five pages before sleep finally claimed her. Much to Jack’s dismay, her slumber was far from restful. It was fitful and filled with murmured requests for her missing brothers. Seeing her alone in the tiny bedroom she normally shared with them, tugged at his heart. He knew she was scared. She wasn’t used to being alone. Gently, as not to wake her, he pushed some hair off her forehead before he shoved his weight off the edge of the bed and left to call Wilfred Mott. He hesitated only a moment to look at his watch one more time. 10:54pm. 

“Dammit.” The word slipped from his lips on the edge of a frustrated sigh.  


Somewhere in his pocket, he had a key to this flat. John had given it to him a few years ago. It struck him as funny that he didn’t have a key to his family home, but he had one to here. He took in his surroundings as he exhaled out his mild irritation. His parents didn’t trust him with unsupervised access to the house. Jack snickered to himself softly as he considered some of his more memorable antics… Legendary parties while they were on holiday, the successful auction of some of the “junk” cluttering the place (He had to pay the bookie _somehow._ ) or his successful take from turning the place into a B & B while they were away on business. Scenarios like that (and perhaps being caught with his pants down, literally, a few too many times) probably earned them the right to not trust him. He brushed his hand down the front of his antique Officers jacket. His favourite uncle had given to him a long time ago after Jack had called upon him for help with another “tricky situation” of his own creation. It certainly wasn’t the first time he had turned to him for assistance, but his uncle let him know it would be the _last_ time. He then handed him the fine grey wool coat with gleaming brass buttons, explaining it belonged to his father, Jack’s grandfather. His uncle’s face was filled with kindness instead of being judgemental, as he was expecting, when he reverently laid the heavy coat in Jack’s outstretched arms.  


“Your grandfather was American; you know that right?”  


Jack only nodded, he was staring at the coat, wondering what it might be worth on E-Bay. If he spun some tale about a great war hero getting killed in action saving some orphans or something equally as heroic, he could score a mint for a coat like this!  


His uncle shook his head at his wayward nephew. “Jack?”  


“Hmmmm? Yeah. Grandad’s coat. Got it, “he replied automatically before snapping to attention. “Wait. Did you say you weren’t going to help me out of anymore jams because I’ve got a line on a pretty sweet deal that you might be interested in…” He was cut off by his uncle before he could finish outlining his latest con to the man.  


“Jack, your grandfather was a good man, but he was a free spirit, like you. He never quite fit in with the expectations the family held for him. They kept trying to change who he was. That’s why he ran off and joined the army. To escape. But you know what, Jack? He was just lost. A lost young man tired of being told to be someone he wasn’t. Someone he couldn’t be. He was tired of feeling like he was disappointing the people he loved just by being himself. “  


For the first time, Jack looked like he was really paying attention. He absently fingered the fine gauge wool. “So what happened to him?”  


“Just that Jackie, he was lost. Adrift. Had no direction. He had all this energy, a ton of smarts and a great big heart but nowhere to direct it all,” he took his index finger and poked Jack in the chest inferring his heart.  


“Your Grandma Kate. That’s what happened. He met her on a desolate street where her home once stood. Her entire family had been killed during a German bombing raid. She was the only one left. Yet, she still wanted to help. She wanted your grandad to take her back to his headquarters and sign her up as nurse because she had seen enough death. She wanted to see someone live. “He shook his head in awe as he retold the story his father told him a hundred times over. “You see Jack, up until then, the war, the fighting, becoming an officer, it was all just a GAME to him. He hadn’t lost anything or anyone that mattered to him. He wasn’t there on some noble calling. He forgot why he joined up in the first place; to find out where he belonged. Well, he said after meeting her, well, she just felt like “home” to him. That she made him want to be a better person. The rest is really just history.”  


With that, he dropped Jack back off at his parents’ home, satisfied that his nephew might have finally listened to someone for the first time in his entire life. 

Jack shuddered involuntarily as he remembered how a chill ran through him as he watched his uncle’s taillights disappear around the corner. He had slipped the coat on for the first time before he went inside. The weight of it both surprised and impressed him. It made him feel connected to something, to someone, for the first time in a very long time. Gathering himself together, a much younger Jack Harkness was greeted at the front door by Edward, the butler, who informed him that his family was “out for the evening” and his supper could be warmed for him in a mo’.  


Jack took a step backwards. Followed by another, until he found himself standing outside the front door yet again. With his signature, charmed smile, Jack thanked Edward but told him that dinner wouldn’t be necessary. That he had other plans. Turning on the balls of his feet, he ran from the house as fast as he possibly could. He ran and he ran until his lungs burned and his legs ached. He ran with his grandfather’s coat flying out behind him like a great grey cape in the wind!  


Jack Harkness’ feet pounded the pavement as sweat ran down his forehead. He cut corners and leaped over obstacles blocking his path rather than deviate from his course. When he reached the stairs, he took them two at a time until he reached his destination. Panting, his legs turned into pools of liquid inside his overpriced, designer trainers. Jack barely had the strength to make a fist and bang on the door before he leaned all his weight upon it to keep from toppling over. 

A moment later, John opened the door and stepped swiftly out of the way as Jack did just that. In an unceremonious heap, Jack Harkness was deposited onto the floor of the tidy little flat his best mate John Noble shared with his younger brother and sister. John stared down at his friend and shook his head as Jack lay panting in a pool of sweat, face flushed upon his floor. He glanced over his shoulder to see the twins head over to see what the commotion had been about. Shaking his head, he smirked and sent them back to finish their homework and offered a hand to his friend. Jack looked up at him and grasped it, grateful for the assistance. 

“So, what is it this time? No. Wait. Better yet, who’s chasing you and do I have to bring a big stick or somethin’?” John asked not trying to hide his amusement at Jack’s dishevelled state.  


Jack could only shake his head and hold up a finger asking him to wait a moment while he gathered enough breath to formulate a response. It took a few minutes, but when he could, he decided to skip putting on the charm since it never worked on John anyway. For _once_ Jack was going to be totally honest.  


Nervous, he found it hard to look his friend in the eye. He shuffled his feet a bit as he spoke but found that just being in the flat made him feel one hundred times more relaxed than he had been all day. “The thing is… Do you mind if I stay here with you guys for a bit? I mean, I know it is crowded and you never know when Sylvia will be back, but I can help with the twins, get them to and from school, help with the bills… Whatever you want. It’s just, I don’t want to go back there. Not now. I don’t know when, if ever.”  


He stopped talking and looked up hopefully at his friend, not quite sure what sort of reaction to expect.  


John reached out and gave the door a soft shove to make sure it was shut. He then turned to look at Jack. His eyes were soft as he evaluated his friend, “Are you in some sort of trouble? ‘Cause, if you are, I’ll go after whomever the son a bitch…”  


Jack cut him off, “No! No, nothing like that. Not _this_ time. It’s just that, I don’t fit in there, they don’t “get” me. Besides, I spend almost all of my time over here with you lot anyway and I’m not saying I want to move in or anything, well, at least not _officially_... Just crash here, for an indefinite amount of time…” his voice trailed off as he tried to conclude his sentence. Even he had to admit that sounded an awful lot like moving in. 

John quirked an eyebrow up at him, “Like you fit in _here_? On the _estate_? The pretty rich boy?” he teased. 

“Please, you love me and you know it.”  


“Have a pretty high opinion of yer’self, do ya?” 

” Hey, it’s not _my_ fault if I am gorgeous _and_ smart,” Jack shrugged, no one knew the struggles of the beautiful! 

John rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms in front of him. He looked away towards the twins as a huge grin broke out on his face. He’d love having his best mate stay with them, he just wasn’t sure if he should let Jack know that. 

Jack waited with baited breath for John’s answer. After a few moments, John reached into his pocket and appeared to be digging around for something. Jack eyed him suspiciously, wondering what on Earth he could be searching for. His curiosity was rewarded when a minute later, John held out a singular silver key on a simple shoestring. 

” What’s this?”  


John rolled his eyes and snorted, “Oi! Some brains you’ve got there. That’s your key you idiot. How else you gonna get in and out without one? That was the one Jamie thought he lost last week but I found it in the toilet. Which reminds me; you’re on bathroom duty this week.”  


Jack rushed forward and threw his arms around John, “THANK YOU!” he said, not feeling the least bit embarrassed when he felt John hug him back.  


When he pulled away, Jack’s eyes appeared to glisten with a little something. 

John smiled softly. “Don’t mention it.” 

A tear rolled off his cheek. He wondered what it said about him that he’d couldn’t imagine _any_ scenario where he would let anyone hurt John or the twins. Yet, his own family? He hadn’t given them so much as a second thought in quite some time. Somewhere along the line, that whole situation got fucked up. They no longer felt like _his_ family. They were strangers to him. He now felt more at home in a cramped, run-down council estate filled with happy chaos, than he did back in his parents’ expensive home in Chelsea filled with room after room of fine furniture, art and silence. Lots and lots of silence.  


Slipping his hand into his pocket, he wrapped his fingers around the cold metal key to the flat. The jagged edges cut into his palm slightly, grounding him. He was wasting time and he knew it. Jack felt as if there were an unseen noose dangling around his neck, choking off his oxygen and forcing his heart to pound viciously in his chest.  


He _knew_ his friend. He knew how he operated and none of this made any sense. He deliberately took his time on the short jaunt into the front room. Slipping his hand from his pocket, he languidly ran his fingers along the length of the hallway wall, taking note of the smooth, coolness against his fingertips. He and John had painted the flat last summer, taking care to cover up the scuffs and repair the nicks the twins had inflicted upon the walls. As he neared the end of hall, he paused and ran his hand up the length of it before switching off the light. He glanced behind him at the darkness and stillness he left behind and felt the noose tighten even more. He couldn’t quite understand why he was stalling? He figured maybe it was easier to **not** know on some level, but he knew that was a lie. There was nothing easy about any of this. Something felt terribly “off” to him.  


His hand dropped limply to his side, surrendering. Jack turned away from the darkness and found himself blinking repeatedly against the offending fluorescent light, assaulting his eyes from the next room. Reaching into his coat, he fished out his mobile. Absently, he placed it to his lips as he commanded his feet to propel him forward. He shuffled his fine leather boots against threadbare carpet as he made his way back to his chair and perched himself on its arm. Bit by bit, he dragged his phone off his lips until it had passed them and sat feebly in his hand.  


Jack stared at it with a sudden feeling of loathing as he resented having to be the one to make the call to Wilfred. In general, he liked the old man and his fanciful stories. If it weren’t for Wilfred, John and Jamie would never have been able to attend the same school as he did, and they would never have met.  


_On the other hand,_ he thought, tossing the phone and flipping it in the air before catching it neatly in the same hand. _He chose to go back to Cardiff and leave John with Sylvia._ A scowl darkened Jack’s handsome face as he recalled a stoic, seven-year-old John attempting to appear brave while waving good-bye to his grandfather from outside their old flat. He stood straight and tall, saluting the cab as it pulled away from the curb. Jack pretended not to notice the slight quiver in his lower lip as the car grew smaller and smaller in the distance. 

Three months later, Sylvia would lose the flat, forcing them to move to the council estate. 

Three years later, James and Donna would be born. 

Defiantly, he flipped the phone open and stabbed at the numbers. He stood from his place on the edge of the chair while the mobile bleated in his ear.  


“’ello?” followed by a pause, punctuated by a yawn, “who is this?” 

Jack found himself standing straighter. “Jack. Um, Jack Harkness… Sir.” 

“Jack?” the voice sounded disoriented, “are you selling something because I have grandkids of my own see and…” 

Jack cut him off, his words seasoned with a bit of sharpness to them, “NO. Sir, I’m _John’s_ friend, remember? We’ve met many times before.” 

Comprehension dawned on Wilfred. “Ahhhh… Jack HARKNESS! I do remember you. You’re the fella John’s always palling around with. Why on Earth are you calling me at this hour?” his voice was a blend of annoyance and burgeoning concern.  


Jack found it difficult to swallow over the imagined noose. It had grown immeasurably tighter once Wilfred cut directly to the chase. He discerned that perhaps for the first time ever, he had no idea what to say! Having his normally silver tongue turn to lead, was an entirely new experience for him. He was a natural born con man. Spinning tales, selling a story? That was like _breathing_! **This however,** needing to say admit out loud that something had happened to his best mate and his brother… That they were **gone?** He didn’t know if he could actually say those words?  


Wilfred sensed something was very wrong by the young man’s silence. He remembered the boy now, and he knew pensive and quiet was not in his nature. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as his mouth suddenly rivalled the Sahara. Silently, he implored the lad to just get on with it! However, he was certain that Harkness’s hesitation meant something was very amiss and the last thing he wanted to do was spook the boy further. 

“Son?” 

Jack snapped his eyelids shut against the sound of Wilfred’s voice. Bursts of light exploded in his vision from the sheer force of the action. It was now or never. 

“Sir?” his voice hitched slightly causing him to pop his eyes open in surprise. He cleared his throat as if that could chase away the cause and shook his head quickly. “Um, Sir, I’m sorry to call you so late but I didn’t know who else to telephone,” he explained quickly before he lost his nerve.  


Back at his home in Cardiff, Wilfred Mott was already slipping into his coat and hat as he tried to convey a sense of patience and comfort across the mobile line. “It’s fine Jack, just tell me what’s going on?” He patted down his pockets, looking for his keys, while he spoke. 

“It’s John and Jamie. They… Well, it’s just that…” he shifted the mobile to his other ear and glanced down the hallway towards the room where Donna was hopefully sleeping. “It’s just that they never came home after Jamie finished school today,” the words poured from Jack quickly, before he had time to reconsider saying them.  


Wilfred Mott was silent. He stood frozen in place, one hand resting upon his doorknob. He wasn’t quite sure what Jack Harkness was going to report to him at the onset of the call, but now that knew, Wilfred realized he wasn’t prepared for _this_. He assumed John had gotten into some sort of scrape and needed his help to get out of it, or perhaps Sylvia had done something above and beyond her normal level of recklessness, but gone?  


That was something he tried to never, **ever** think could happen to any of his grandchildren. The implications were just too horrific for him to even consider. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew the threat always existed, but John was practically an adult now and there had never been an attempt before, not that he knew about at least. 

” Oh Sylvia, what have you gone and done now?” the older man moaned quietly as he crossed the room stopping before a small fireplace mantel that held a few framed photos of his family. He reached up and from behind a framed photo of his smiling grandchildren, he produced a dogged-eared photograph of a little girl in pigtails, holding onto a much younger Wilfred’s hand. Wilf pressed the black and white photo against his lips briefly before placing it back and gently picking up the frame holding the photo of John, Donna and James. He slipped the photo, frame and all, into his coat pocket, as he turned back towards the front door. 

Jack was confused, “Sylvia? She isn’t here. No one knows where she is, do you?” 

“Sylvia? What? No. No, I don’t,” he stammered slightly embarrassed that the young man heard his earlier remark about his daughter. _However, that did bring up a good point,”_ he thought to himself. 

Wilfred stood outside his flat and reached for a second mobile phone from another pocket. He sent a quick text to Sarah Jane to meet him ASAP. “Jack? Where’s Donna? Is she alright?”  


Jack leaned against the chair, relieved to have something positive to finally tell him. “Yes Sir, she’s fine. She’s here with me safe and sound.”  


Wilf smiled and asked him to stay with her until he could get there. He was grateful (and surprised) when he agreed.  
_Apparently, this friend of John’s was no slouch._

Just as Wilf was preparing to disconnect the call, Jack stopped him. 

“Sir?” 

“What is it son, my ride will be here and I still need to pick up a few things, a few people, before I arrive in London?”  


“It’s nothing. It’s just that I want to stay here and help. I want to help find them, if that’s okay with you?”  


Wilfred Mott could see Sarah Jane’s blue sedan travelling up the road at a decent rate to come meet him. However, something about the kid’s offer moved him. It spoke volumes to the kind of person his grandson had grown up to be, if decent lad like Jack Harkness was his friend. He ignored the burning sensation pricking at his eyes. 

“Son, thank you. I have a feeling we’ll need all the help we can get,” he waved his hand to Sarah Jane from the window as he finished his conversation with Jack. “Now, promise me you’ll take care of my Donna until I can get there.” 

“I always do, Sir. I always WILL,” he self-corrected before he hung up his mobile by flipping it shut. He collapsed in the chair he was leaning against and even though he wasn’t a praying man, prayed that there was something stronger than milk in the refrigerator or tea in the cabinet. He had a feeling he was going to need it. 

Wilfred Mott arrived in London from Cardiff in record time. He brought with him Sarah Jane Smith and two other agents from Torchwood, to help find John and James. By the time they reached the Noble’s flat, it was the early morning hours of the next day. There were no clues, no witnesses, nothing to go on. Yet Wilfred seemed confident they would both be found. However, the first thing he did, was to rush into the bedroom to make sure Donna was there, asleep and safe. He needed to know at least one of his grandchildren were asleep in their own beds tonight.  


Sarah Jane Smith was not without her resources either. It had only taken her a matter of minutes to track down Sylvia Noble. She was in Monte Carlo… On business supposedly. Wilfred left her an urgent message at her hotel. She would call _once_ while her sons were missing. _One time_ to let her father know her displeasure in being tracked down like a wayward teenager. When Wilfred was finally able to ask her if she had heard from either of her missing children, her only response was to pass off blame. She huffily told her father that she had left _John_ and his _little friend_ in charge (she didn’t even know Jack’s name) and that she was sure they’d turn up. 

And turn up they did. It was three days later when Jamie, who had been perhaps seven at the time, simply walked through the door of the flat, kicked off his trainers and sat down on the couch, looking no worse for the wear. He was clean, happy, unharmed, all be it a bit confused as to all the fuss he encountered after everyone got over their initial shock at seeing him. He was also very convinced that everyone was trying to pull a prank on him because there was no way it was three days later. He was however, annoyed at John for not meeting him after school and pouted when he couldn’t find him in the flat. He was cross with his older brother and wanted to let him know it. Instead he endured the endless questions and Donna’s clinginess until they finally let him watch cartoons in peace. The boy had no apparent memory of ever being gone. Though, in the end, he was quite pleased to be the centre of so much attention. 

Doc on the other hand was gone three weeks, and didn't speak for another after he was discovered on the edge of death in an abandoned shed out past the city. His clothes were missing. His arms, chest and torso bore a multitude or black, blue, green and yellow bruises. The colour indicating how long ago the injury had been inflicted, the placement implying he had struggled mightily against whatever hell had befallen him. The barren room held one piece of furniture, an ancient surgical table. It was to that table that John had been strapped to with oversized leather belts to subdue him. The top was covered in a white sheet stained with drops of dried blood, which would later that night and for years to come, create horrific images of what might have happened in Jack's mind whenever he tried to close his eyes to sleep. The clapboard structure housing the inhumane fixture was also deathly cold. There was nothing to keep the elements out. No heater, no fireplace. Not even a blanket. Just four rickety walls, and pressed wood boards for the roof and floor. The only other items in the room were bits of mouldy bread and some discarded electrodes amongst the human waste and vomit. He didn’t even want to guess what the electrodes had been used for. 

Horrified at what the entire scene implied, a much younger version of himself, shoved his way past John’s grandad and his long-time friend, Sarah Jane Smith, and out the door where he could be sick and sob desperate, angry, horrified tears, away from the others. 

After a few minutes, Wilfred had come out to find him. Ignoring the fresh, crisp air of a new day, Jack wished for nothing more than for it to be over so he could go home, except that usually meant back to the Nobles’ flat. Embarrassed at being so weak, he refused to look at the older man. Instead, he stared at his boots and willed himself not to cry. Much to his relief, he didn't say a word. He simply handed him a clean handkerchief and placed his hand upon his shoulder sympathetically. The simply gesture tugged at him, made him want to look at him.  


Wilfred Mott’s normally playful, sassy eyes, that were so much like Donna’s, were suddenly haunted and lifeless. The usually spirited man, spoke tenderly to him, using as few words as necessary. He thanked him for helping find his grandson, but then apologized for bringing him along; vehement in his belief that no one should live with the memory of seeing his friend in that state. The two of them stood there in companionable silence for a moment before _he_ commented that no one should have to see anyone they care about like that. 

Wilfred only shook his head, tears heavy in his eyes, but refusing to spill over. “I am afraid this is exactly what I deserve.”  


Jack leaned forward slightly, staining to catch what the older man was saying.  


“But John. John is a good boy. He didn't deserve any of… " his voice trailed off for a moment as it threatened to break. He quickly composed himself, his eyes darted about for a moment before settling back upon Jack. He straightened his back and swallowed the guilt and pain that threatened to overrun him.  


“That was a message for me and I heard it, loud and clear,” he punched his chest with a balled up fist. “I should have been here to protect him, to keep watch over those kids instead of worrying about bloody Torchwood! Part of me _knew_ going to Cardiff was a mistake, that Sylvia would never be a proper mother to them. I had hoped. I thought maybe… No. I should have stayed in London and taken those kids away from her years ago,” he lamented, cursing himself for being so foolish. “If I had done that, I would have been _right here_ and there is no way in bloody **hell** he would have gotten his hands on my grandsons. None!” he growled, dropping his hands forcefully to his sides, hitting the shed with a distinctive thud. 

Wilf was staring straight ahead at the seemingly empty surroundings. Jack had a feeling that Wilf saw something only visible to him. Something held in his mind’s eye. His eyes no longer appeared dead, but burned with fire and rage. His voice simmered with untampered fury, “I believed her when she said she had changed, that she learned her lesson... " Wilfred turned his attention towards Jack. He hoped he was conveying how sincere he was that he never meant to put his grandchildren in any danger. At the same time, he was making the boy a promise. He had been burned by his daughter for the last time. He would not be foolish enough to let it happen again.  


He offered a confident smile to the lad, "well, I'm coming home for good now and this time, I am bringing all of Torchwood WITH me! I have people that can run the operation in Cardiff, good people. Obviously, London needs Torchwood. I swear on **my life** that nothing like this will ever happen again. Not to John, not to James, Donna, you... not anyone associated with my family. I will put **him** back in the gutter where he belongs! 

Jack was taken aback by the vehemence in the normally congenial man. He could see shades of the old soldier Wilfred Mott once was come bursting through as he was preparing to rally his troops in battle against whomever was responsible for hurting his grandson. With pat to his shoulder, Wilf turned to head back inside to speak with Sarah Jane and check on John. The nurse had arrived and he wanted an update. 

Jack’s head was spinning. How exactly did Sylvia play into this scenario? Granted, the woman was a bitch and a piss poor excuse for a mother, but this? This was something else entirely. Then there was something else Wilfred had said. Something about _him_ deserving this? What did _he_ do? And why did he seem to know who did this to his mate?  


Jack watched as Wilf was about to disappear inside. He leapt to his feet and called out to him before he lost the opportunity. He wrapped his grandfather’s coat around him more securely. It suddenly felt heavier than usual but he suspected he knew why. All his other questions could wait. Right now, there was one thing that he **needed** to know. Just one and that “one thing” would forever change the direction of his life forever. The name of the man Wilfred suspected did this to his best friend. 

“Sir!”  


Wilfred stepped back from the open doorway, suspended between the two worlds, one holding his broken grandson, the other his scared, yet determined looking best friend. “What is it son?”  


“Who did this to John? Oh and don’t bother lying and telling me you don’t know. I can spot a con a mile away.”  


Shocked, Wilfred stopped short and stared at him. For a moment, Jack was afraid he’d call his bluff and he’d have to find the answer on his own. He quickly straightened up to look taller and shot the older man a determined look. 

Wilfred Mott finally nodded his head slightly and said the one word that did indeed alter his life forever before finally ducking back inside. 

"Davros". 


	5. John and Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack and John come to grips with the end.

"Davros". 

Doc never spoke in any detail about what happened to him during those three weeks, claiming he couldn't remember most of it. Over the years, he would occasionally slip bits and pieces of information to Jack, usually after copious amounts of tequila or whiskey. There would be a few times, usually after some major upheaval in one of their lives, when it would be just the two of them and they’d get to talking. Jack would notice Doc suddenly get a faraway look and his eyes of icy steel and he would become distant, as if he needed to mentally distance himself from what he was about to share. He would then become quite still and with a steady, quiet voice, he might tell of something he experienced during those nightmarish three weeks. Jack would sit in companionable silence when this would happen. Doc wasn’t one for touchy-feely conversation; letting him in on his private hell showed the depths of the bond they shared. These tiny windows into his private Hell were horrifying and Jack knew he was only scratching the surface. He could only imagine what kind of nightmare his mate actually lived through. Doc was never quite the same after his ordeal and it was more than just the night terrors that plagued him. 

The person they recovered was no longer the same poor kid with the weird northern accent who resided on the estate. The same kid that Jack had met at their posh, public primary school years ago. Jack had mourned his loss. He loved that barmy fool. John had been _his_ brilliant, funny, fiercely loyal, clever, good looking, football star from the estate friend. _His._ No one else’s. Meeting him was a revelation, entry into a whole new world. It was the first time Jack had ever met a kid who wasn’t well-off; one who had to take the bus to school and didn’t live in London’s west end. While the other kids (and their parents) kept their distance from him, Jack was a moth to John’s flame. He was the one person a young Jack could count on no matter what. He saved his ass so many times while coming up. It seemed Jack had developed a nasty habit of going out with other bloke’s girls. (Or vice versa as the case might have been; whomever caught his fancy really.) A few times, he was even hunted down by the husbands of their teachers. That sort of thing tended to get a bloke into hot water. Having a friend like John Noble, someone smart and physically intimidating, that tended to get you out of it! 

Now, John was no saint, but unlike most people, he knew it. He didn’t hide behind false modesty or pretend to be something he wasn’t. They were partners in crime; always have been.  


Only, it **may** have been me committing the "crimes" 80% of time.... **Maybe** a bit more? 93% of the time. TOPS! A smirk lit his face as memories of some of their more notorious adventures rushed passed him.  


However, Davros took that person from him. He stole him from the world. 

He would receive no mercy from Captain Jack Harkness for that crime. None. That was really why he stayed behind. 

That is what he would tell Davros right before he killed him. 

  


For his part, the Doctor knew Davros would be more than happy to see them all perish and his death would be the most celebrated. 

_Then again, perhaps he would prefer me alive?_ An involuntary chill tore through him as the idea set his heart racing with panic. His stomach, twisting in sick, burning knots. It really was him he wanted, any other Torchwood agents’ deaths would be a bonus to the sick bastard. Considering “other agents” made a new and terrifying thought come to him, one that he hadn't considered before. Davros might not mind getting his hands on Jamie; especially if he were dead. He swallowed hard his vision blurring and he struggled to regulate his breathing. He could feel beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead as his arms began to shake ever so slightly. Still he hung on. It was all he could do. After all, this was his fault. 

Back at the Gamestation, he swore to himself he wouldn’t let anyone get hurt; that he would do whatever it took to ensure his team got in and out of there safely. He would be damned if he let Davros and his family's war against him and his family, destroy everyone and everything that mattered to him. He understood the risk Davros posed being personally involved with this case. Yet, he still brought everyone along. He couldn't keep the people he cared about safe. Davros had taunted him with those very words. Laughing at him and his false bravery back then… He had told him he couldn’t stop him and he was right. If he were gone, who would stop Davros, Rassilon or his crazed son Harry, from killing James? 

_That was if he even wanted him dead._ Broken memories started swirling around inside his head causing the Doctor to bite his lip to hold his focus. _What about Donna? Hadn’t she been through enough hell in her lifetime by curse of their shared DNA? What if they went for her too?_ John could feel his lip twitch in fury mixed with despair, he would rather see his brother and sister dead, than fall into the hands of Davros or Rassilon.  


The Doctor dug his nails into the palms of his hands as waves of nausea crashed over him threatening to drag him under and smother him. From the moment he was freed from their grasp, his greatest fear became the twins falling into their grasp. It seemed desperately unfair that as he stood upon death’s door his darkest thought threatened to become reality and he would be unable to stop it. He felt his breath catch in his throat, the twins could die, or ending up with either one of those sick bastards…He squeezed his eyes shut tight against as if that could block out the image. Deep inside his gut, he could feel the bile rising up, and he swallowed hard against it. 

The sensation did not last long however, as a new one threatened to wipe out his wavering self-control. A searing pain coursed through his, as a memory of his granddad from long ago, resurfaced. It was cloudy, grainy. However, John could make-out his gentle voice trying to soothe him, telling him that this vendetta Davros held against the Noble family was not his fault. A shiver tore through him as he heard his much younger self reply he was wrong, that this was all his fault. 

John swallowed hard and pushed the ghosts aside. They wouldn't do him any good now. They couldn’t help anybody. He had tried to keep the others out of Davros’s way. He sent James and Rose on to another location; one he knew would be safe. But it wasn’t enough! Nothing he did was ever enough! He knew if he released the shockwave, and Jack was still in the building that he would die. Jack knew it too when he ran off. That still didn’t make it right. He was his best friend. His only friend really, outside of his family and Rose. He had known though, the cheeky devil had known it was a lost cause and that all he could do was try to minimize the damage and eliminate the threat. There’d be no last minute heroics this time.  
_Knowing that, what did he do? He kissed me! The barmy fool kissed me! Then took off trying to find Davros, and I know he did it for me. Jack would sacrifice his very life to seek revenge upon Davros for what he did to me._  


His field of vision faded momentarily as he was carried away on a wave of pain that he wasn’t sure was entirely physical. When it had subsided enough to think, all that was racing through his head was a singular thought, he had killed his best mate just as surely as if he had place a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. He had killed him. It was his responsibility to make sure there were no casualties on field missions. 

  
_Well, I certainly botched that job up, didn’t I?_   


If Jack was surely dead, that meant there was no one left to look after the twins when he was gone. He had let everybody down. Doomed them all. His failure was complete. 

  


John felt his grip on the TARDIS console loosening. He was beginning to lose his battle with the poisoning feasting upon his body. He squeezed his eyes together tightly and shouted his apology out into the universe, praying to whatever gods there might be, that Jack would somehow hear his anguished plea. 

_I’m sorry, Jack. I am so bloody sorry! You deserved so much more than a friend like me, but thank you for sticking around; thanks for everything,_ he paused for a moment to catch his breath before continuing. _I’m dying Jack. That doesn’t make up for you losing your life, but I’m dying. Maybe I’ll see ya…_ He stopped again. _Never mind._

He and Jack rarely had such meaningful conversations, sober at least. Why should their deaths change that? 

_By the way, I guess you were a pretty good kisser after all,_ he offered as an afterthought, with a smile through gritted teeth. He figured, if Jack could hear him, that last bit would be enough to drive him around the bend, which would be the perfect revenge for that kiss he planted on him. 

Exhaling through his teeth, the Doctor sent his goodbye to Jack out into the universe, hoping that somehow he would receive it. That he'd know he loved him, even if the words were never said aloud. 


End file.
